


Waxing Poetic

by Thepyramidsloth



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Sam wants kids, Sleep talking, Slight pining, possible series?, post quest, shy Frodo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-03
Updated: 2018-11-03
Packaged: 2019-08-17 07:07:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16511618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thepyramidsloth/pseuds/Thepyramidsloth
Summary: Frodo helps sam understand why he doesn’t want a traditional family.





	Waxing Poetic

It was a bright, sunny day in the shire. Spring had brought the flowers to bloom and the grass to feel cool and sweet beneath the feet of the hobbits who inhabited the little land.

Beneath an old oak looking over the rolling hills surrounding bag end lay a peculiar hobbit.

Not of the sort of cheerful folk who walked pushing their barrows to and fro from the market to their cozy smials, but one with a creased brow from countless days of worry and a tired, almost upset look in his pale eyes.

For indeed Frodo Baggins had seen more of the outside than the average hobbit had the mind to. Scars from a chain weighted with an unfathomable burden lay on his breast. A cold wound like a freezing burn still ached on his shoulder.

His small body was worn, for all the healing that had been done simply could not erase the brokenness his journey had caused.

“Ah, here we are Mr. Frodo. I've made summat special this morn for tea. Chamomile and honey, some apple butter gifted last fall by the Took family.” The other hobbit bent to join him on the grass with a sheepish smile, “ And I tried my hand at making some of Mr. Bilbo’s cinnamon scones, hopefully they turned out as good as I'd hoped.”

Frodo rose slightly to grab one of the lovingly prepared, if not misshapen pastries.

“Dear Sam I have told you time and again to address me as Frodo. Nor mister or master, you are no longer a servant. However I thank you kindly for thinking of me, you needn't have gotten up so early and tended to tea. Honestly, you think of everyone but yourself and you know just as well as I that we are both in need of rest.”

He was right, despite the weight he had gained back and the cheery smile which had greeted him. Behind it all there was a definite exhaustion surrounding his friend.

Trusted, faithful Samwise, Frodo thought to himself. If ever he were to settle at bag end with another they would have to be comparable to his dear friend. Not that he ever intended to. For no lass in the shire could bring warmth into his often hollow chest, sense his unpredictable and often times un-gentlehobbitly like mood, and ask nothing in return quite like the gardener of bag end.

As he enjoyed the pleasantries of Sam’s company and the sweet, rejuvenating food the two recollected fond memories as if they were dreams only faintly remembered after deep sleep.

Bilbo’s 111th birthday party, marvelous fireworks and all. The peaceful summers which came after in which Frodo had taken up as the young master of the smial, carefully watching Sam out in the garden. Of the times he had brought out some ancient Sindarin book through which they could puzzle out meaning with their combined knowledge of the elvish language.

It was not long before Frodo realized he had kept on in his dreamlike state and gone back to thinking about Sam. It seemed these days that every pondered road in his mind eventually brought him back to his friend.

Not sure of the meaning he shook himself to reality.

A fondness was what it was, he was simply fond of Sam.

How could he not be? They shared an undeniable bond. Sam had gone without during their days of hunger, braved roiling waters, and even carried him when the weight of the cursed object was to much to bear. In all respects he was loved as family, loved closer than a friend. There was no word which came to mind to describe the feeling woven so deeply in Frodo’s heart for his gardener so fondness it was.

“Sam,” he asked, butterflies starting to form in his stomach. “I was wondering...what will you do now, I mean now that our journey is over?”

Sam took a thoughtful sip of his tea and looked into the distance as if studying something far away.

“I suppose I’ll be tending to the garden as I always have, no reason to let such a splendid thing go to waste.”

Frodo cracked a smile and laughed.

“Of course you will. But beyond the smial? What will you do with yourself Samwise? You’ve a long life ahead and surely you must fill it with more than gardening. What about..” Frodo’s throat suddenly tightened without he himself quite knowing why,

“About Rosie Cotton, you once told me that you dreamed of settling with her?”

Sam piled the tea tray with the leftovers, cheeks turning unmistakably pink as he did so.

“Aye, I did. Or at least I thought so. We’ve been so free with our time lately I’ve been doing a lot o thinkin’. Too much I reckon. The more I think about Rosie, the less I’m thinkin’ about her. Which don’t quite make sense I suppose.”

“No I don’t suppose it does.” Concern filled Frodo, he wished dearly for his friend to be happy after all they had gone through and the thought that Sam was conflicted reminded him of poor Bilbo. He wished very much that Sam wouldn’t find his heart elsewhere and live properly happy in the shire.

“What about your thoughts is troubling you, if I may ask?”

Sam’s eyes shut and he leaned back into the grass as if reaching deep inside himself for an answer that might sound more clear.

“Well Mr. Fr-erm I mean Frodo. It seems fine to think about at first. A house full of bustling babes and a caring, fine lady like Ms. Cotton.”

Sam paused again to think, “However, sometimes I wonder… is it really her that I’m looking for? Begging your pardon if it sounds selfish sir, but I think perhaps it might just be the family I’m missin’. Almost like I can’t wait to have a family of me own. No mistake I’d choose Rosie over any lass in the shire, but I wouldn’t if I could make my own little hobbits without her or any other so to speak.”

Unable to contain himself any longer Frodo tore a handful of grass from his side and watched as it fell gently on his friend’s head, then burst into an unrestrained fit of giggling. He watched as said friend went from pink to a darker shade of red.

“You silly hobbit!” He exclaimed, “You want to be a pa! Without a lass? You sound like Bilbo dear Samwise! I’m sorry I shouldn’t poke fun, but do you intend to be married?”

“Of course married!” Sam huffed indignantly, “Just not to any lass in the shire! I mean if I had to pick I would pick Rosie,”

“Then perhaps another lass?” Frodo’s teasing was starting to become insufferable. “Tell me sam, would you have an elf? Perhaps a fair woman of Gondor? Even a dwarf?”

Frodo immediately regretted such a bold jab when he saw the gardener frown and cast his eyes to the ground, clearly deeply upset.

“No,” he half whined, half whispered. “A hobbit.”

“A hobbit, but just not anyone from the shire. Everyone knows everyone else around here, but truthfully I can’t see meself’ settling with anyone here, if you catch my meaning.”

Frodo, looking puzzled, clasped his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

“I can’t say that I do, but we will think on it together.” He paused, “So you want a family, and a hobbit lass to settle down with, but no one in the shire strikes your fancy?… Samwise you are a riddle of a lad.”

A soft wind began rustling the leaves on the tree above the two, sweet scents from the garden began to waft in their direction and birdsong had ceased. Frodo yawned unnecessarily loudly and rolled to his belly. He hardly felt the tickle of the turf on his cheeks as began to feel himself doze a little in the pleasant damp of the lawn.

In fact he was on the edge of sleep when thought he felt strong hands around the crook of his legs and back. He settled into the floating feeling, It must be the wind that made him feel as if he was suspended above the ground.

In the briefest moment he thought he caught the sight of golden curls bouncing above him. Someone was looking down at him with tender eyes and soft smile about their lips.

He was sure now that he had fallen asleep, for he recognized the face as his beloved gardener. His hands felt light, drawn toward the figure above. He reached out and cupped sam’s cheek. It felt rough from spending time in the blazing sun.

Sam leaned into the touch and his eyelids fluttered. At this point there was no doubt in Frodo’s mind that he was deeply asleep.

Rationally it was not the wisest of ideas however easy it would be to brush off his talk as rambling. Without the common sense of an alert mind he dared now to call out to his friend.

“Beautiful Samwise who is always at my side when I need him. How I adore you so. How I wish you knew…” He was sad to remember that only in dreams could he express the unexplainable feelings in his small chest to Sam. However it was such a welcome outlet that he continued.

“ Bright as the summer sun, and sweet like the first harvest of fall apples. Strong and diligent in duty. Enviously handsome. My heart beats only for you…”

***

Frodo awoke to a savory smell. He was a little perturbed to find fresh linen about him and a plush pillow underneath his head. Perhaps Sam had carried him to his room after all? He dearly wished not. Although it was not a habit of his to speak whilst sleeping the thought that occurred to him made his body feel frozen and prickly.

Of course it had to be a flight of fancy. Even as a child he had been a quiet sleeper. It was not possible in any conceivable way that any of his thoughts had become audible. This soothed him in the slightest, allowing Frodo to slip from the bed out of his nightshirt and into proper clothes. That was probably Sam’s doing too…

At last he conceded that the only way to be sure of what had actually happened was to go about the rest of the day in his normal fashion and watch for anything peculiar.

And peculiar his day was going to be for as soon as he stepped into the kitchen to see the short figure in dusty brown overalls he heard a distinct clatter as if a cooking utensil had been dropped.

The other hobbit continued to chop the carrots on the counter, his movements getting quicker with each step Frodo took into the room.

“So you’re finally awake then?” A pause like the quiet after a thunderclap echoing behind the words. Frodo already knew what Sam was going to say before he spoke.

“ I never knowed you talked in your sleep sir.” The voice tried to sound casual but the crack in the middle gave away his nervousness.

My god, Frodo thought. He’s heard, he’s heard everything and now he thinks I’m repulsive. He won’t come back after finishing his cooking, tomorrow his father will be up here to inform me that his family no longer wants to have anything to do with the Bagginses. I am a fool, a disgusting fool who should not even dream of being closer to Sam.

Frodo’s mouth was so dry he couldn’t even answer, his throat swelled and he fought viciously to keep tears from his eyes. He wheezed the only reply that would come out of him.

“You’ve done enough today, perhaps you should go home Sam.” Yes, home and as far away as possible from me.

The chopping stopped and Sam turned, body facing Frodo but looking away as if something down the hall was interesting him greatly. The other hobbit wanted to roll into a ball underneath his bedsheets, why had he left his room at all?

A sniffling sound caught his attention. Sam’s eyes hid behind his hair but by the tears dripping down his face Frodo could tell he was Very upset. No longer able to hold in his own feelings the other began sobbing into his hands.

Nothing would be the same again, now that Sam knew.

He waited for the words to come. Vile, horrendous, repulsive. Those were what he felt in his heart.

The sniffing got closer but Frodo couldn’t force himself to take his palms from his eyes. Was Sam so truly upset that he should think of something like hitting him? No, Sam was too kind, too gentle to harm any form of life.

Instead of a smack Frodo felt his right hand gently pulled away by warm, calloused fingers. He could see his friend frighteningly clear now. His hazel eyes deep with overwhelming thought and tears still falling down his flushed cheeks.

“Begging your pardon…” Sam hiccuped, “ Mister Frodo...Blast it! Frodo, would you mind if we had lunch in the living room today?”

He simply nodded in reply fearing the shameful whimpering that may have escaped instead.

At this Sam visibly relaxed, eyes brightening a little. He wiped his eyes and nose across his sleeve. Hurriedly he set about piling together the tray of cold meats, vegetable soup, cheese, crackers and tart jam that was intended to be their lunch. Sam was in and out of the room like a bee at work in a patch of wildflowers. Soon enough Frodo could hear fire crackling in the hearth and the clink of Bilbo’s silver mugs as each was filled with light ale.

Nervously the young master made his way to the next room and then threw himself down on the plush armchair where he often sat to read. This time he quite wished that he could see nothing entirely so he buried himself among the pillows and the old throw blanket on which he was sitting.

Sam came back to quite the sight. Two pale blue eyes, puffy and red about their edges, peeking from beneath a mountain of fabric. Sam didn’t look much better but he had refused to hide like a swatted pup. Seeing his master so afraid hurt indefinitely more than whatever had brought him to tears and he was desperate to clear the look of fear from his eyes.

“It’s ok.” Sam said gently, “ You ain’t hurt no one and I ain’t mad.”

A nose appeared from under the bundle, followed by the rest of Frodo’s head.

“How much have you heard?” His voice trembled audibly.

“Now hold your horses, I asked you if you would eat with me so you could hear me out and help me. What I have or haven’t heard isn’t the topic of conversation. If we started there I fear I should become biased when trying to tell you this darned tangled thought.”

Sam sat near the fire and exhaled to expel hesitation from himself. After offering Frodo food from the tray and making sure he was sipping at least enough of the ale to feel less trapped like a hunted rabbit he judged that it was a good time to restart.

“I’ve had more time to think since this morning, about having a family. I’ve however not been thinking about any sleepy ramblings you’ve been doing.” Sam looked a bit sleepy himself as he lapsed into memory.

“I never noticed the surroundings when thinking about the family I wish for. I’d only thought to notice how happy I was imagining telling your stories to a little hobbit lass sitting on my knee or playing near the garden.

I tried very hard to see what else lie in my daydream. Where I was, who was with me. It weren’t no use. Then I’d noticed you fell asleep sir and well I couldn’t just leave you to lie outside. Seeing you so relaxed put my heart at ease and I was smiling like some dopey tween asked to their first dance. It made me think how glad I was that you’re healing. Maybe you aren’t healed completely, but every little bit feels like a victory for me. Then you looked up.”

Frodo, lightened by the alcohol and the pleased tone of his friend’s voice but not enough so to shed the old blanket, rose and sat next to him inquisitively. Sam let him get settled so as not to rush anything important he needed to say.

“I looked up and?” Frodo’s sniffled.

“And, I knew the answer to my problem. It was like someone had taken my noggin and set it so I was seeing straight again. You looked up and I felt my daydream flash through my mind crystal clear. Me and the young one at bag end. Digging in the garden, rolling down the hill, racing to the door for elevensies. Cold winters sipping cider by the fire, just me and my beautiful family.

Celebrating Yule, watching the summer fireflies together while the babe was tucked up in bed.

Always I would look up to Bag End and sitting on the bench beneath the trees smiling bright as I ever seen one smile, there was you.”

He smiled bashfully, wringing his hands and looking away. Sam knew in his heart why he fancied no lass in the Shire, he knew and as was his nature he’d been honest as best as words could convey. Even if Frodo felt nothing more than a familial bond with him it was enough. Love for the sake of love filled his heart in a way that he should be content no matter the outcome. He had said his piece and was no longer afraid.

Frodo was caught unawares and tongue tied in the worst possible moment. Sam had heard him and refused to take his sleepy ramblings as a confession. He had waited patiently until Frodo could truly confirm the words he spoke. Understanding clocked him over the head like a brick. Sam hadn’t been crying over what he said, he’d been crying about finally resolving a question that had been eating away at him for longer than he had guessed. The great weight lifted off of his shoulders was such a relief that even stout hearted Samwise wept with relief. Still, he didn’t want to assume wrongly, even if he had guessed right. The only way to know was to ask.

“Sam, why were you crying in the kitchen earlier? I was afraid I upset you terribly by some things I might have said. But you found a reason to stay, which didn’t make sense to me at the time.”

“Why never,” a boldness came about the gardener, whether to comfort his friend or express his feelings was beyond Frodo’s guess.

Sam reached out and clasped his hand gently, the sudden contact almost made the young master pull away but Sam’s sturdy reassuring grip calmed him.

“I thought you’d think me a delusional ninnyhammer when I told you that I had figured out what I was missing. But to understand and feel wonderful love that I had not understood before left me right confused.”

Frodo was in definite danger of falling into tears once more. His eyes stung and his heart beat wildly. He did the only thing his body would allow him to.

Throwing the blanket from himself he lept forward into Sam’s arms and buried his heat against his chest. Sam smelled like grass clippings, tulips, sunlight, and all that was beautiful in the world. He was warm and comforting and Frodo could feel the tattoo of his heart against him. Sam pulled him in close and wrapped his arms about the other hobbit.

“If I have said as I think I have, It is true. Oh Samwise, dear Sam, I mean every word with my whole heart. You are brave and faithful, kind and generous. More beautiful than the halls of Lothlorien and more precious than the mithril of the lonely mountain. Sweet as the air after spring rain. I am not simply fond of you Samwise Gamgee, I adore you with all that I am. I apologize for waxing poetic but I just cannot seem to stop myself.”

As easily as if he had done the action a thousand times over Sam lifted Frodo’s face and kissed him gently. There was no over eagerness in either hobbit. Both treated the other as if they would break at the slightest pressure. It was chaste and full of endearment more intimate than any other profession of love one could imagine. In that time they exchanged their hearts, saying all that could not be said in all the languages among middle earth.

It was Sam who finally broke the kiss.

“I’ve always loved your poetry my dear Frodo.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work I’ve published on this site! Thank you for reading! Comments and feedback are appreciated.


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